Tartarus
by Angelwingz324
Summary: Short one shot on Percy and Annabeth in Tartarus. Percy realizes some things about his life. Percy centric. Percabeth.


You are numb. That is the only way to explain how you're feeling. You're tired to the point that you're aware of little. You do not sleep, because if you do, she is vulnerable.

She is strong, a fact you know all too well, but Tartarus has been hard on her. Down here, up is down and down is up. Nothing makes sense, and the voices beckon and taunt you, no matter how hard you try to block them out. Eventually, you let the voices flood your mind. It drives you crazy. The daughter of Athena tries to find logic, but there is none and it is that fact that will break her. She does not have her dagger. It is lost to the darkness beyond.

Well you have not, she finds sleep. It is not a peaceful sleep though, and you can tell from the pain that fills every inch of her face. Every now and then a scream escapes her lips. She is a prisoner in nightmares that are best left buried, unseen. She is forced to acknowledge the images and words that cause her distress.

Another scream, louder than the others slips past her lips. You feel her pain and want nothing more than to take it away, but well she sleeps, you are as helpless as she. You will not wake her because you won't be the one to bring her back into the world where they are hunted like prey, that is now there reality. The only thing you can do is calm her as best you can.

You memorize every line and angle of her face in the dim haze Tartarus offers. Sitting here as she sleeps, you can see the obvious affects of Tartarus. Her once golden curls that reminded you of a princesses, are now matted to her head, filled with dust and gunk. You notice her grey streak is gone. It hurts you more than it should. Her face is covered in dried blood and is smudged with dirt. Her bubble wrap cast has long since fallen off, and well you try to make do, every step brings agony.

As another nightmare fills her mind, you can finally realize she is breaking. She is breaking, shattering like a mirror, the pieces falling on to the unforgiving cavern ground. You realize that you can not hold the pieces to gather. That maybe you won't be strong enough to save the one thing that matters most.

Your realizations do not end there. If she dies, your world, you will be nothing. You too, will break, and the pieces will be too small for even Hephaestus's fire boy himself to fix.

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Dark. Darkness. It surrounds you, suffocates you. You feel panic rising up inside you and it threatens to overwhelm you. You try to scream her name but the single word never makes it past your lips.

You suddenly notice how cold and empty your hand feels without her own linked with yours. The cold feeling begins to go up your body, wrapping around you like a blanket. It is too much and you scream a horrible, gut wrenching sound that rips your ears out, but the darkness is quick to silence it.

You sink to your knees, waiting for the end. The pain continues, leaving you floundering in a black sea you are unable to control. The only thought you can grip is your wise girl, and her absence only brings more torture. Her name slips away from you, slipping underneath the crashing waves.

You become lost, being thrown and whipped around in what can only be despair. Hope. You lose the meaning of Hope.

Years. Months. Days. Minutes. Eventually, the pain slowly goes away, the black waves receding. You feel a hollowness that makes you ache. You have never felt this truly alone.

Her name suddenly comes shooting at you, a pain that hits you like a bullet. You leap to your feet, stumbling and almost crashing to the ground. You can't find her right away and precious seconds tick by as you scan the horizon.

There. A single golden curl. It sticks out against the horrors of Tartarus. You are beside her in seconds.

You hold her limp, broken body in your arms. She is cold. Terribly, terribly cold. Her eyes are half open, so you can see the grey clouds swirling, the crazed look. You can see how broken they look, like they had cracked then been hastily glued together.

A bitter, hopeless feeling wells inside of you as you try to find life in those grey twisting portals. You curse every god you have ever met. You curse the world, it's unfairness. You curse the fates. They did enough. They saved the world, but, the world will always need Heroes, always need saving.

Gaea's words come bouncing back at you. My pawns. You had always believed you would never be her pawn, you were you, not her chess piece, but now... You doubt everything.

You think about your defiance, your accomplishments and the sudden realization of everything comes at you so fast and suddenly, it is like a punch in the stomach.

You have been played. Your whole life, from the moment you got on that bus, maybe even before that, you have been played. You are nothing but a piece in the gods cruel game. And the worst thing of all is that you have played right. Done every thing they ever wanted you to do.

The bitter feeling is overwhelming you. Luke was right. At the time you thought he was crazy, but only now do you truly understand his feelings, his motives. You curse everyone who still thinks of Luke as a traitor because they don't understand how utterly right he was.

You close your eyes tightly, resting your head on her chest. Tears fall down your cheeks. You feel empty. Hollow. Bitter. Her life is slowly slipping away, to a place you can not follow, but a part of you does, leaving only a shell of your former self.

Wait. There. A single moan. A flutter of the chest. The empty, hollowness disappears and the bitter feeling is folded up in a small corner of your mind for later. You grab onto that golden curl of hope. It is all you have. She can't leave you. She is yours.

Certain now that she is alive, you stand up. Time is ticking. You must escape this place of torture.

You look up. Darkness stretches up, up, up never ending. You wonder idly if there is a ceiling.

Up there, your friends are fighting. Searching for the Doors of Death. You can't just leave them. Can't leave them too the mercy of Gaea. You glance at her. No matter how hard you try to keep her safe, to protect her, she will always be in danger. It's the life of a demigod.

You stand up tall, head held up high. Once more you will come to the rescue. You, Percy Jackson, will have to play hero one last time.

**I would love it if you reviewed telling me on ways to improve my writing. Feel free to comment on any grammar or spelling errors. Flames are welcomed whole-heartedly**


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